We walked through to the main lobby which was glowing from the six-foot hearth fire. The polished wood walls danced with firelight reflections. Some guests sat on couches talking or looking at their phones. The clinking of plates and silverware drew my attention. The restaurant loomed before me. Beyond it was a bar playing soft, soothing carols. A huge Christmas tree stood beside the restaurant host podium. There was no line.
We walked up to the host and got seated within thirty seconds. The aroma of hot food assailed me.
I was grateful the chaos of earlier seemed to have subsided. Disaster averted for now.
“This place is nice,” Aspen commented.
“After the mess of this afternoon, I expected everything to be still unorganized. Or closed.”
After we ordered, we admired the decorations and made small talk.
I was surprised we had so much in common. Aspen was a lawyer. Brand new to his job. I worked for a legal firm as a paralegal. That was one topic we had fun discussing.
We also both had big families. I had two brothers and one sister. He had six siblings.
“I always spend Christmas with them,” he said. “But this year I needed a break.”
“Mine are scattered about, some pretty far away. There’s a reason we’re scattered. I don’t see them much.”
“A reason?”
“Yeah. Our parents were super strict. Super religious. And sometimes they drank too much. We were raised in a verycontrolling atmosphere with not a lot of what I would call ‘good’ attention. Us kids couldn’t wait to move away.”
“I’m sorry to hear it. Mine are the opposite. Very loving. Encouraging all of us to explore our dreams. Reindeer shifter culture puts pressure to marry and have kids, though. I’m far too busy. I hear about it all the time, though.” He mimicked in a high voice. “Why aren’t you married yet? When are you going to have a family? You’re not getting any younger; don’t you want kids?”
“You should do what feels right for you.”
He smiled, holding up his glass of wine. “Thanks for saying that.” He took a sip. “They really didn’t want me gone for the holidays. I have guilt about not attending the big family dinner.”
I knew guilt well. Everything was about guilt when you were raised by zealots. I’d spent all of my adulthood learning to get rid of it. And then there were the expectations of me because I was an alpha. My parents had tried to suppress that part of me, again due to their beliefs.
“Guilt isn’t fair. In my eyes, it’s about control.”
“Well,” he shrugged. “It’s also about my conscience. I would never want to hurt my family’s feelings or have them think I don’t love them.”
“I’m sure they don’t think that.” With my family, that was something I did not have a conscience about.
“My ears are burning. I can feel them talking about me right now.”
“Maybe we can drown it out with good food and more wine.”
“Thanks for listening,” he said.
At that moment, the food came. We both devoured it like starving men. I realized as we ate that the silence was never awkward between us. If I’d been alone, I might have rushed myself through the meal. Since I wasn’t interested in meetingnew people, especially this time of year, I would have brought my tablet and ignored the beauty around me.
Aspen’s presence was a welcome change. It was nothing I chose, but I was the sort of guy who tried to make the best of things. I didn’t have to try with him.
The more we talked and ate, the more nice things I noticed about him. How the light caught in his dark brown hair. How his voice had a melodic tone like a deep-sounding bell. How his eyes danced when he laughed, giving him a momentary carefree look, taking away the worried face I’d seen when we first met in the lobby.
We’d barely known each other for a few hours and already I had decided he would not be a bad companion to have around for the next two weeks.
We could make this work, I assured myself. I’d do whatever I could to make sure neither of us felt the need to go back to our lonely, silent homes at Christmas.
5
Aspen
Dale was more than suitable company. Instead of being annoyed at having a roommate forced on me, I didn’t mind him at all.
